


Comfort, Joy and Sex

by southsidestyle



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Play, Barebacking, Christmas Presents, F/M, Hate Sex, Kissing, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Santa, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidestyle/pseuds/southsidestyle
Summary: When Kevin approaches Cheryl about being involved in the little Secret Santa activity he’s organizing a few weeks before Christmas, her first question is whom else will be participating.His answer is predictable, but once she confirms that hobo Jughead is the only participating member she truly loathes, she agrees.Soof coursethe name she inevitably pulls out of Kevin’s Santa hat is his.
Relationships: Cheryl Blossom/Jughead Jones
Comments: 16
Kudos: 182
Collections: Home for the HoliDale





	Comfort, Joy and Sex

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try my hand at a holiday fic and as always, Riverdale Events came through with some guidance. This is written for the Dancer/Presents theme, particularly the Secret Santa prompt. It's set during the second season and mostly aligns with episode 2.09, except for the fact that Penelope is already doing her sex work.

Whenever Cheryl tells someone that Christmas is her favorite holiday, most of them assume it’s because of all the red. 

She understands why they assume that, but they’re wrong. If Cheryl picked her favorite holiday based solely on color scheme, then that fake, lower tier joke of a holiday, Valentine’s Day, would be her favorite. 

No, while Cheryl has always enjoyed the aesthetic of Christmas—the lights, the snow, the cute outfits, and yes, red-everything—what she _adores_ about it is the presents. 

Clifford and Penelope Blossom may not have been generous with their affection, but their money was another story, and never more than at Christmas time. Which isn’t to say that Cheryl loves Christmas because it’s when she felt loved by her parents or anything pathetically sappy like that—it’s just a fact that she’s always been spoiled around the holiday, and there’s nothing Cheryl loves more than being spoiled. 

So it goes without saying that now that her family is broke, Cheryl Blossom is having a little trouble finding the Christmas spirit that usually fills her so easily come the first of December. 

Of course, it’s not the only reason for why Cheryl’s spirits are low this holiday season: it’s her first year without her beloved twin brother Jason after all.

But that wound hurts all year around, so she’s mostly blaming her mood on the money issue. 

\---

When Kevin Keller approaches her about being involved in the little Secret Santa activity he’s organizing a few weeks before Christmas, her first question is whom else will be participating. 

His answer is predictable, but once she confirms that hobo Jughead is the only participating member she truly loathes, she agrees. 

So _of course_ the name she inevitably pulls out of Kevin’s Santa hat is his. 

“Am I cursed?!” she immediately cries, turning the small piece of paper around to show Kevin what’s written on it. “Have I not suffered enough tragedies this year?”

Kevin sighs, and not in sympathy. “You’re not supposed to tell me who you picked, Cheryl.”

Seeing that the boy is not likely to indulge her petulance, Cheryl growls, roughly shoved the paper in his chest and storms off in a huff. "Ugh!" 

“You’re still participating though, right?!” Kevin calls after her, but he doesn’t get an answer. 

\---

The thing about drawing Jughead’s name for Secret Santa is not just that Cheryl hates him, but that she also doesn’t _know_ him. 

What is she supposed to gift him, a new hat for his greasy little head? Some novel about an annoying and self important outsider? A bar of soap? 

Truly all fitting presents, really, and probably on par with what the others will be doling out, but something in Cheryl is telling her to do better, for some inexplicable reason. 

Maybe it’s the idea that Kevin thought to include her at all, considering how often she’s left out of things by that very same group, that makes her want to actually put a little bit of effort forth—or maybe it’s just her competitive side coming out that thinks she can somehow _win_ Secret Santa. 

But whatever the reason, Cheryl opts on not settling for an easy gift for the hobo, and to instead actually invest some time into coming up with the _perfect_ gift for him—one that she can also afford.

Call it the Christmas spirit finally finding her.

\---

That was the plan anyways, two weeks ago, before everything around town started falling even further into the gutter. 

Since then, Jughead has broken up with Betty, the Blossoms have officially reached the monetary rock bottom and her mother has become a lady of the night. Also, the local serial killer has really upped his threatening behavior, apparently, but that’s not really in Cheryl’s wheelhouse, so that’s mostly irrelevant to the issue at hand.

Cheryl’s not really sure where all the time goes, but before she knows it, it’s less than a week before Christmas and the last day of school for the year is tomorrow and she’s supposed to have a gift for Jughead by then, but she has nothing.

It’s not her fault that the whole thing slipped her mind the next day—forgive her for not thinking of that loser in her spare time—and now she’s left to scramble after all of her inner monologuing about being the very best at this. 

The fact that it’s nearly impossible to even hear herself think in this hell house doesn’t help either. 

“Are you finally done with your … _entertaining_ for the evening?” Cheryl asks her mother as she enters the sitting room and finds it lacking a perverted older man. 

Penelope rolls her eyes as she tactlessly counts her money on the couch. “You’d do well to keep that judgment out of your tone,” her devilish mother tells her, not looking away from her cash. “Unless you plan on gaining employment to bring your own income into this dwindling household, I suggest you get on board with my new business venture, because you _will_ have to get used to it.”

“But have you no shame, mumsy?” she questions incredulously. “Fornicating with any man that will pay for it?” 

All her life, her parents instilled in Cheryl a drive to uphold the Blossom name with dignity and power, and here her mother is, prostituting herself to the lonely men of Riverdale as if it were nothing. She knows their name has long since been tarnished by her murderous, drug dealing father, but Cheryl assumed her mother would want to fight to _rebuild_ it, not let it burn. 

“Why have shame when you can have fun, dear?” Penelope replies with a smirk, but as Cheryl wrinkles her nose and turns to leave, she doesn’t miss the way her smirk settles into a smile. 

It’s the first real, genuine smile Cheryl has seen her mother sport in goodness knows how long, and it’s due to this—this _depravity_?

She really gains joy out of selling her body and sleeping with men beneath her? 

Cheryl just can’t comprehend it. 

\---

Which is why when she tosses an envelope addressed to Jughead, with an IOU note inside, into the growing gift pile in the lounge the next day, Cheryl doesn’t have anything dirty in mind yet.

“Gee, thanks,” Jughead says sarcastically when he opens it, showing the paper to the group before all eyes land on her, because everyone immediately knows who it’s from. “Just what I always wanted.”

And even though Cheryl meant for it to be a placeholder—a reminder that she owes him a present when she finally has the time to think of something better—with everyone looking at her, that gesture suddenly feels entirely empty.

Which it is, because Cheryl doesn’t care about Jughead, but she had wanted to _pretend_ to at least, and this just proved to everyone that they were right about her.

So she speaks without thinking about it much. “Please, a voucher for a favor from Cheryl Marjorie Blossom is priceless,” the redhead tells the group, twisting in her seat on the couch to look back at Jughead standing behind her. “That’s a golden ticket, you ungrateful little hobo. To be cashed in whenever you please, for _whatever_ you please. Having me in your debt is nothing to turn your nose at. I suggest you use it wisely.”

While it’s said on a whim, Cheryl thinks it’s actually pretty good thinking, considering how often these piranhas use her for their little investigative adventures.

Jughead doesn’t look convinced, but he keeps whatever smart aleck comment he’s dying to share to himself and just nods and pockets the slip of paper. “Yeah, thanks, I guess. Merry Christmas.”

Cheryl flashes him a fake smile and turns back in her seat to look at Kevin. “So, who’s next?”

\---

For all his attitude, it doesn’t take long for Jughead to cash in on his IOU, even if it’s not his idea.

She finds him sitting alone in a booth at Pop’s the next night—which isn’t exactly a rare sight, but this time he doesn’t have a laptop in front of him—looking dejected and frustrated. 

“If it isn’t the loneliest little hobo I’ve ever seen,” Cheryl says as she approaches his table, crossing her arms so her already amazing tits look even better as she peers down at him. “Where are your comrades?”

She has a pretty good idea of the whereabouts of at least two of them, considering they stopped by her house earlier this evening and shared a stolen moment in her driveway right after. Something that is, of course, already on the tip of Cheryl’s tongue, considering the damage it could cause the boy in front of her—if he doesn’t know already, anyway.

Jughead clenches his teeth as he levels her with a withering glare. “What do you want, Cheryl?” he practically hisses. “I’ve had a long night and I’m really not in the mood to deal with whatever hateful vitriol you’re about to spew."

Cheryl sucks her candy cane and remains unaffected by the boy’s nasty attitude, eyeing him in slightly more interest than she normally would. 

She doesn’t like weak people that just let her walk all over them, and though Jughead’s never been the type to, something about his tone tonight, and the overall transformation of his personality since transferring to South Side High, has Cheryl taking a bit more notice.

Before, his pedestrian—usually movie or literary—snark was annoying, just like the rest of him, but perhaps she’s seeing him a little different now. Or maybe it’s just tonight, because she’s already in a _mood_ due to her evil mother and her lack of other outlets (see: victims) for her raging emotions now that school is on break and she’s mostly spending her time alone. 

It’s then that Cheryl’s suddenly struck with an inexplicable combination of horny, vindictive and chaotic energy, that has her seductively sucking on her candy cane as she eyes Jughead for a moment longer, contemplating.

Until she says _fuck it_. 

She’s in the mood to watch the world burn, and she’s already got the match in her hand; with one move, she can get back at her mother, cause destruction within the Core Four, give someone the best Christmas present they could ever hope to receive and get laid, all at the same time.

“Why so glum, chum?” Cheryl finally replies rhetorically and with an exaggerated pout, letting Jughead’s attitude slide off her shoulders. “Daddy couldn’t afford any Christmas presents again this year? Or did you find out what Archie and that cousin of mine have been up to tonight?”

Jughead’s eyes narrow at her words, and it’s obvious he’s trying to keep a poker face while also trying to figure them out, but he hasn’t perfected his mask as well as Cheryl has. 

So when he tries to play his insecurity off, she sees right through him. “Betty and I aren’t together, I don’t care who she spends her time with, especially when they bring down a serial killer.” 

Cheryl hums as she slides into the booth across from Jughead, ignoring the confused scowl on his face at her action. “Now we both know that’s not true,” she purrs with an obvious glint in her eyes. “I think you’d care a considerable amount if you saw the steamy lip lock my eyes were privy to earlier this evening.”

His mask crumbles— _amateur_ —as he attempts to figure out if Cheryl is being truthful or just trying to cause trouble as usual. “Why are you telling me this, Cheryl? Just trying to spread some Christmas misery around? What’s the play here?”

“No play,” Cheryl purrs again, not at all subtle about the way she wraps her lips around the candy. “I just thought you should know.” She flutters her lashes at him, big brown eyes calculating and seductive. “See if you were interested in cashing in on that _favor_ I owe you tonight.”

Jughead sneers as his scowl deepens. “What favor could I possibly want from you right now?”

“No need to get so testy, Beanie Boy,” Cheryl responds with ease, dragging her eyes up and down the boy across from her as she runs the sharp tip of the candy cane over her bottom lip. “I was merely offering my… _comfort_ for the evening.”

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to pick up what she’s implying, considering he’s some self proclaimed teen detective or whatever, but as soon as he does, his eyes widen as he scoffs. “ _Seriously?_ ”

“Simply a suggestion,” Cheryl shrugs innocently, tapping her fingernails against the surface of the table before she slides out of the booth and gets to her feet. “Call me if you change your mind, I’ll be up late tonight.”

And with a wink, she saunters away, leaving Jughead with lots to think about.

\---

Cheryl spends the drive home wondering why she just did that.

She had her reasons in the moment, and they still stand, but was all of that really worth the possibility of fucking _Jughead Jones_?

Surprisingly, she quickly decides that the answer is an easy _yes_.

Perhaps Jughead is poor and irritating, but there’s no denying how good looking he is—especially in that new, disgusting leather jacket he’s been sporting—and it’s Christmas; the time of year to give to the less fortunate. 

She had originally wanted to give Jughead the best gift she could, and what better gift could Cheryl give to someone than herself? 

And maybe she’s a little lonely.

\---

As expected, not even an hour later, Cheryl gets a text from Jughead.

**From: Hobo Jones**   
_fine i’m in_

Cheryl’s cheshire cat grin shines bright as she gets the notification and hears her mother milling around downstairs still. 

**To: Hobo Jones**   
_Just knock when you get here_

\---

Cheryl hears the door ring not ten minutes later, but she takes her time descending the stairs to ensure that her mother is the one to answer the door. 

“Hi, Mrs. Blossom,” she hears Jughead say before she even sees him.

“What on earth are _you_ doing here at this hour?” Penelope demands, distaste and distrust obvious in her voice.

“He’s here for me, mumsy,” Cheryl announces as she skips up behind the woman, meeting Jughead’s eyes over her shoulder and reaching a hand out to him. “Shall I show you to my room?”

Even though Jughead looks unsure, he looks more intimidated by Penelope than he does Cheryl, so he takes her offered hand and allows her to pull him past her mother and inside the house. 

“What is the meaning of this, devil child?” Penelope practically screeches, slamming the door shut and spinning around to glare at the teens. “Bringing this, this _filth_ into our home?”

Cheryl snorts, plastering a bright smile on her face. “I’m having fun, mother,” she announces proudly, tugging Jughead closer and pushing him in the direction of the decorated stairs. “Why should you be the only one permitted to do so?”

For all the times Cheryl’s purposely pressed her mother’s buttons, this might be the closest she’s seen her head to exploding—it’s a Christmas miracle.

“You cannot possibly be trying to compare—” Penelope begins to protest, but Cheryl’s already turned her back on her to follow Jughead.

“Toodles!” 

\---

Jughead’s sealing his mouth over Cheryl’s before her bedroom door is even closed. 

His lips are soft, even if his touch isn’t, and she’s a little bit surprised that she doesn’t find the experience revolting yet—a part of her had expected to have to grin and bear her way through the whole thing. 

Kissing Jughead isn’t bad at all, actually, and before long, Cheryl finds herself kissing him right back—blindly stumbling further into her room with him.

“What, pray tell, made you change your mind?” her mumbles against his lips when they finally pull apart long enough to breathe. 

Jughead kisses her hard and hungry once more before pulling back to shake his head. “I’ve had a _very_ long and shitty day,” he explains as he pulls his leather jacket off and tosses it to the floor, reaching for Cheryl’s waist and pulling her against him again. “I’ve earned a little comfort and joy, even if I have to get it from you.”

His obvious dislike of her just gets Cheryl more into the mood, and she pulls her shirt over her head and waits for Jughead to do the same before she starts kissing him again. 

The boy is more fit than she expected him to be, and his body feels hard against her hands as she pushes him backwards until they’re fall onto her bed.

Cheryl thinks she’s probably a bit more experienced than Jughead is—even though that’s still not saying much—but he’s the one that takes the lead from there. He rolls them over so that she’s underneath him, nudging her legs apart so he can settle between her thighs as they continue to makeout. 

It gets messier the longer it goes on, and by the time Cheryl can feel Jughead’s cock through his pants, her own arousal is obvious too. She lost her bra at some point—surprisingly skilled fingers getting it off without much hassle—and his hungry mouth finds her already hard nipples as he makes his way down her body to finish getting her undressed. 

“You’re soaked,” he notices smugly, once he’s got her shorts and panties off and she’s laid out naked in front of him, completely exposed in a way she’s never been before, and she’s not sure why she’s allowed herself to be now. 

“I’m turned on,” Cheryl tells him as she sits up, running her fingers through her tousled hair. “You’re not the only one who’s had a particularly difficult day they need unwinding from.” She drags her eyes over his body and raises an eyebrow when she gets to the bulge in the crotch of his boxers. “Yet I’m the only one undressed.”

Jughead chuckles and brushes back his own messy hair, his beanie somewhere on the floor. “Never thought I’d see the day where Cheryl Blossom wanted me to get naked.”

“And I never imagined the day I’d allow Jughead Jones in my room, let alone in my bed or inside of _me_ ,” she says back, with only a fraction of the attitude that she usually has. “Shall we call it a Christmas miracle and move this along?”

Instead of whatever not so clever quip she’s sure he wants to reply with, Jughead just rolls his eyes and finally undoes his pants, pushing them—and his boxers—down his thighs, so that his cock bounces free.

Cheryl tries to keep stoic at the sight of it, as not to boost the boy’s ego any further than she already has this evening, but there’s no denying that he’s an impressive size, and as she reaches forward to start stroking him, she finds she can’t even get her fingers all the way around it. 

_Merry Christmas to her._

Thankfully, the foreplay doesn’t last much longer than that before Cheryl finds her back pressed against her mattress again, with Jughead between her trembling thighs. 

“Last chance to back out,” Jughead tells her with a taunting smile, arms strained on either said of her head as he ruts the underside of his cock against her aching sex.

“You know I’m not going to,” she pants out, her brown eyes probably black by now.

Jughead’s smile just widens, a few of his loose curls hanging down in a way that has Cheryl thinking he might just be handsome without that damn beanie on. “Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it. Consent is important, especially in transactional sex like this.”

“I want you to _fuck me_ , Jughead Jones,” Cheryl tells him boldly and without hesitation, knowing he’s trying to humiliate her and not giving him the satisfaction. This was her idea—it’s as much a gift to her as it is to him—and while she’ll probably feel a deep shame about it tomorrow, tonight, she can’t make herself care. “So just shut up and do it.”

Jughead’s inside her before she can even finish her command, the back of his hand brushing against her clit as he guides his cock into her tight cunt.

Cheryl gasps as he fills her, his cock feeling even bigger than it looked. Her walls squeeze around him, making him pull out so he can push further in, and by the third go, his balls meet her ass. 

He’s all the way in and Cheryl’s never felt so full in her life—Moose and Chuck had both been well endowed, but somehow, this skinny loner kid has them both easily beat—and she finds she _loves_ it.

Again, Cheryl’s experience with boys is limited, and neither of them were able to make her come, but as she already starts to moan underneath Jughead, she’s fairly confident this time will be different. 

She doesn’t know if it’s actually the size of his cock, the context of the hook up, or just her overall distaste for the boy—maybe it’s all of it combined—but Cheryl’s really fucking turned on and for once, someone knows what to do about it. 

Jughead doesn’t bother starting slow like Moose, but he knows better than to try jackhammering into her like Chuck too—he finds the perfect pace between too slow and too fast, and stays there; he uses the little mewling sounds Cheryl makes and the way she writhes against him to gauge what she needs. 

Part of Cheryl wants to close her eyes, or at least avert them, because anything else feels too intimate for what’s supposed to be, like Jughead said, transactional, but she doesn’t. Cheryl keeps her eyes trained on the face hovering above hers, on the darken eyes that stay locked on hers just the same.

She curls her hand around the back of his neck and cards her fingers through his thick black hair, grabbing hold of just enough to give a good tug when his cock hits that one spot inside of her that makes her see stars.

Cheryl comes suddenly and she comes hard, her toes curling as her thighs lock around Jughead’s waist, trying to keep him in place, but to no avail. 

Because instead of stopping, Jughead fucks Cheryl right through her orgasm. He reaches a hand between their writhing bodies to play with her clit too, drawing it out agonizingly, in the best way imaginable. 

All Cheryl can see is white behind her eyes—lights, clouds, cum, honestly, she doesn’t know—and just as her body finally starts to relax a bit, the knot in her stomach starts to tighten again. 

She has no idea what Jughead is doing to her, but all of it feels amazing and too much at the same time, and she never wants it to end. 

Which is why she whimpers when he pulls out of her. “Wha—?”

“Turn over,” he orders her, fisting his cock and stroking it to keep himself hard. “ _Now, Cheryl._ ”

His words—or his sharp tone, really—shoot straight to her still fluttering cunt, so Cheryl doesn’t dare talk back before she’s rolling over onto her stomach. 

She sucks in a breath when she feels Jughead mount her thighs and palm her ass, spreading her round pale cheeks so he can spit on her untouched rim and work it in with his thumb. 

He doesn’t ask, but he stills his movements when Cheryl freezes underneath him, and waits until she’s relaxed before he starts teasing again. No pressure is applied, not yet; the only thing that Jughead puts back inside Cheryl is his cock.

It slips back in easily, even though she feels tighter in this position, and the sounds they make as he fucks her only get more and more lewd the harder he cants into her and the wetter she gets. 

Cheryl wonders, just for a moment, if her mother can hear their fucking from downstairs, and if not the sounds of skin meeting skin, then surely she must be able to hear the wonton moans Jughead’s cock is ripping from her throat. 

The thought shouldn’t get her off the way it does, but Cheryl’s always found revenge—especially against her malevolent mother—extremely satisfying. Still though, she has to give credit where it’s due, because she doubts this act of revenge would feel anywhere near as good as it does without a little help. 

It’s that thought that has her reaching underneath herself to rub her clit, pressing hard circles against it as Jughead’s thrusts and the thumb teasing her asshole push her closer and closer to the edge again. 

When Cheryl comes the second time, it’s somehow even harder than the first, and this time, she pulls Jughead over with her. 

Neither of them muffle their moans as they come together, Jughead’s pelvis jerking into her ass as he releases spurt after spurt of warm cum into Cheryl’s quivering cunt, filling her up as she trembles beneath him. 

This part feels different than with Moose or Chuck as well, but maybe that’s just because she actually had an orgasm herself this time too. But whatever it, Cheryl decides she likes it. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” she laughs breathlessly, not even bothered by the weight of Jughead’s collapsed body against her back. “That was…” 

Truthfully, Cheryl’s at a loss for words for how to describe that. 

But Jughead seems to be too, because instead of providing a fitting adjective, he says, “Just the first round,” into her shoulder before he rolls off her and lands on the bed beside her with a thump.

Cheryl smiles and murmurs her agreement, visions of round two already flashing in her mind—her cunt throbs, but she has another hole in mind for next time. 

_Tis the season._

**Author's Note:**

> I finally wrote another Jughead/Cheryl fic, for all those kind people that enjoyed my other one, and I hope you like this one too. Would very much appreciate it if you hit that kudos button or left a comment if you liked it. Thanks for reading!


End file.
